"You really mustn't talk," I heard the Young Man say.
"Land's sake! but do they want it all their own way? Though who could talk when the whole night is throbbing with beauty? Just look at that intense blue vault above us, and the calm stars shimmering down on us. Say! doesn't it make you feel just too awfully small for anything? You don't feel inclined to get up and preach now, do you? Just shut your eyes and listen; that's about all one can do."
The figures wandered up and down under the overhanging lime boughs, two and two, and presently the black and white ones ahead of us stopped. When we wandered off again somehow we had changed partners, and Mamie was arm-in-arm with her special Other One and the Young Man was walking with me.
"I had such a lot I wanted to talk to you about," he began. This sounded interesting, but he seemed unable to get further.
"About the Sunday school?" I asked gently, for we were still listening for the nightingale.
It was almost a cross "No" that he muttered as we passed Mamie and her friend.
"Oh, I know," I suggested; "it is about the garden. You haven't been helping me in my garden for weeks and weeks. What can one talk of better than a garden? I think it is the most interesting subject, and you must want to know how the nurslings are turning out, now they are started in real life."
I suppose Mamie had caught the word garden, for she began to sing in a very high thread-of-silver voice,